


Light

by Ohmylordy



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: 2nd person perspective, Angst with a Happy Ending, It's a bit different but give it a chance, NOT a Character x Reader fic, Post Reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 08:46:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ohmylordy/pseuds/Ohmylordy
Summary: Even when the world feels like it's being consumed by the darkness, there is always a light.A unique perspective on the aftermath of the big reveal.





	Light

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fic that I've written for the Lucifer fandom. I wanna give a huge thank you to Kay_Kat for beta-ing this for me, and to Lesza_Borana and Zoe for their never-ending support! This fic is a little bit unique in its perspective, but I hope you will give it a chance!

You show up to her home a few days after everything has settled down.

 After the incident with Cain.

 After she _saw._

After countless unanswered phone calls and messages begging her to talk to him, to listen.

It takes incredible control not to turn and bolt right then and there, to force back the darkness that is threatening to consume you. To leave and never come back. Like you should-- like you deserve. She has already made it very clear that she wants nothing to do with you.

But that other part of you that yearns for her is stronger.

You raise a trembling hand and knock.

It seems to take an eternity for her to answer and you chuckle bitterly at yourself because you of all people should know what that feels like. But finally, a light flickers on, the door opens and suddenly she’s in front of you.

It takes her a second to register that it's you, but you see the moment that she does, the sharp intake of her breath and the way her eyes go wide.

Everything seems to freeze, the world going silent and still as of in a void.

And then she is slamming the door in your face, her muffled voice coming through the wood, begging you to, “ _Just please go away. I can’t do this right now, please.”_

But you catch a glimpse of her face, just enough to see it in her eyes - the fear.

The fear of _you._

  _"Monster,”_ the voice inside your head whispers.

 “ _No,”_ you rasp.

_But you are._

Her reaction is like a sucker punch, knocking the air from your lungs, your resolve going with it, darkness threatening to take its place.

You rest your head against the door, needing to be close to her, craving the light.

" _Please,_ _Detective– Chloe,”_ your voice is a quiet rasping thing you don’t recognize.

You swallow hard, clamping down the chaos that is threatening to rip you apart.

But silence is your only answer and you feel the darkness pressing further in with every passing second.

This is it, It's over, you think as you begin to turn away.

And then you hear the door open and suddenly she’s standing before you.

Her eyes are red-rimmed, expression guarded and weary but she is still the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

She gives you a nearly imperceptible nod of her head and takes a small step backward as her only sign of invitation but you take it like the greedy bastard you are. You take one cautious step forward and then another and you are in her home. But the warm lights, the photos, and little knick-knacks that once made her home feel so special to you suddenly feel so foreign, like you are a stranger who doesn’t belong and it’s because you know that you don’t.

Not anymore.

Maybe you never did.

A throat clears and you snap out of your abstraction. You turn to where she is still standing by the door, her arm crossed over herself like she is trying to draw herself inward, protecting herself.

_From you,_ you think sardonically.

You open your mouth to speak, to explain, to beg her for her forgiveness - anything to get her to stop looking at you the way she is now, but the words are stuck around the lump in your throat. Stupid human emotions, why do they have to be so damn hard?

But you know there is only one thing for you to say and it threatens to destroy you where you stand. You take a deep shuddering breath and tell her.

You tell her that you're sorry. Sorry for dragging her into everything, for putting her in danger. That you’ve done things that you know she could never forgive you for - things you still can’t bring yourself to say. Sorry for being who you are-- _what_ you are. How foolish you were to think you could go on pretending that you were an actual person worthy of her.

_No one could ever love a Devil, a monster._

You want to tell her how much she means to you, how much she’s given to you. How she has given you so much unrequited joy that you never believed you could have. How she could make you forget, if just for a second, about all the darkness. That she made you believe you were actually a person, how it filled you up, made you feel invincible.hat you were more.

But you don’t tell her. You don’t have that right.

Chloe remains quiet throughout your ramblings and with each confession, you feel the ground underneath your feet crumbling, the centuries-old foundation collapsing in, threatening to suck you in. You see the stars blink out one-by-one and all that’s left is to wait for your turn.

_I’m leaving,_ you tell her in the deafening silence. _I’m going back, as soon as my affairs are in order, I’ll be gone. I won’t burden you anymore. But you have a right to know._

You look at her one last time, trying to capture the image of her in your mind. She’s staring at the floor, but her eyes snap up to yours and the pain there is like a final dagger to your heart. It’s all too much. Suddenly your body is in motion, one last “ _I’m sorry”_ escaping your lips as you push past her into the night.

 

____

 

You barely make it back to your penthouse before you fall apart completely. The world is spinning too fast, too bright yet colorless at the same time and you feels like you can’t breathe.

You grab the first bottle you touch with trembling hands, not even bothering to reach for a glass, and you stumble out to your balcony and stare blankly out at the lights below, willing yourself to breathe. But the city you used to love now seems too bright, too harsh. Surreal. And you’ve never felt like you belonged in a place less, the Silver City included - the previous eight years just some mirage to trick you into a sense of belonging. Another lie. How fucking ironic.

You feel the rage and pain expanding white-hot in your chest and you can’t take it anymore.

In one swift movement, you whip around and hurl the whiskey bottle as hard as you can and it smashes into the glass shelves behind your bar, sending everything shattering to the ground.

And as suddenly as it came, the rage rushes out of you, the fuel burned out. What’s left instead is a cold emptiness. You fall onto the ground, slumping back against the railing.

You bring your hands up to your face and notice, vaguely, that your flesh has turned red and scarred. You stare at them with dread. You don’t have to look in a mirror to know what your face looks like.  

But there is no point hiding it, right?

It is who you are, after all.

You press your roughened skin to your eyes and grit your teeth as you struggle to breathe against the vacuum in your chest.

Then someone is pulling your hands away and something soft and warm is touching your face. Your breath catches in your throat as you don’t dare to move. You keep your eyes squeezed shut. It must be an illusion. There is no way she would be here.

But she softly calls your name and you find that even after everything you still can’t refuse her.

You slowly open your eyes and your heart skips a beat as you find her face meer inches from your own. Your instinct is to push her hands away and to run. She can’t see you like this.

But you’re so tired and the gentle pressure from her hands stills your movements. You look into her eyes and you realize the softness in her gaze. Her eyes are glistening as she looks at you with such tenderness. Her fingers are brushing softly against your own cheeks and you realize then that you are crying.

You sit there, laid bare before her and yet she’s sitting here, eyes and fingers traveling softly over your face, _that_ face. Searching, memorizing. Almost as if she’s... cherishing it. But how can that be? How can she look at the face of a monster almost as if she….

It must be an illusion, you think, and you close your eyes again and will the dream away, stealing yourself to open them again and find her gone, or sneering at you in disgust as she confirms to herself what you truly are.

But none of that happens.

Instead, she smiles.

It’s a small, hesitant thing, but there is something there that you never even dared to dream of, the slightest glimmer of acceptance. Then she is holding out her hand. It’s only one slight gesture, but you see how monumental this is for the both of you, what it means.

A chance.

And in an instant, hope burns through, a flash of burning light before it bursts out of you, uncontained and brilliant.

You know that there is still so much between you, so much that still needs to be said, but for the first time since this whole mess began, you see the possibility of light.

Out of the dust and molecules and debris, there are the foundations to rebuild. The foundations for new life.

You take her hand.

  
  
  



End file.
